


Slasher Flick

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Humor, M/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-06-19
Updated: 2003-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-20 08:31:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11332155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived atThe Basement, which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address onThe Basement's collection profile.





	Slasher Flick

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

Slasher Flick

### Slasher Flick

#### by Kashmir Flutesong

  


Slasher Flick 

Title: Slasher Flick 

Author: Kashmir () and Flutesong () 

Rating: R, for Language, Slight Gore, and Naughtiness 

Pairing: M/K Slash - Early Second Season 

Archive: Yep - Let us know 

Notes: Our first collaboration - Flutesong took Krycek, Kashmir took Mulder, and we all had a lot of fun! And now we refuse to give them back. Thanks to Tarsh for the excellent lyrics. It's all her fault anyway, for giving Flutesong two sets of terrific lyrics. They had to be used, it would've been a crime otherwise. Posted originally at the Lyric Wheel. 

Disclaimer: The characters and situations of the television program 'The X Files' are the creations and property of Chris Carter, Fox Broadcasting, and Ten-Thirteen Productions. Mrs. Voorhees and Camp Crystal Lake appear courtesy of Paramount Pictures. 

* * *

"Mulder!" exclaimed Krycek, "We're gonna be late and I can't believe I let you talk me into this in the first place. The only thing we're gonna find at the movies is people leaving a cheesy horror flick en-masse. Not alien abductions" 

Mulder put the car into park, with a little more force than necessary. "This isn't about alien abductions, Krycek. I'm keep telling you, there is something going on at this theater, and no one else is going to bother checking it out." Mulder got out, slammed the car door, and attempted to shake off the last three hours on the road with a verbose and complaining Krycek. 

"Well, I'm with you aren't I? But there's been no definitive evidence that people have actually gone missing. Just some reports about strange experiences and feelings after they've returned home." 

"Strange feelings? Try full-blown hallucinations. They remember actual conversations with characters in the movie they were watching. Some are seeking therapy, and it has happened too often to think it's just a coincidence." Mulder dug in his back pocket for his wallet, "Oh, and by the way, you can get your own ticket. And I don't share my popcorn with anyone." Mulder strode over to the glassed-in booth, giving the teenage girl there a sunny smile. She smiled back. 

"There is a body of definitive evidence, however, linking the increased use of special effects and violence in modern movies that suggests more people are suffering after-effects from the experiences, TV too. I'm gonna eat, and you keep your hands off the nachos." Krycek pulled his wallet from his pocket as he lined up behind Mulder. 

"Whatever, Krycek, just don't touch my popcorn, or you'll be pull back a bloody stump in place of a hand." Mulder walked to the double doors, and noticed the brass accents on the worn oak. This must have been a real palace in its day, he thought. Now the Dreamland Cinema was just another run down, nearly out of business dump. Mulder couldn't help but think it was a real shame that soon theaters like these would be a thing of the past. He went in, and stood at the snack counter, as Krycek caught up. 

"Wow, this place must have been a hell of a grand-dame in its time," Krycek said admiringly while he attempted to balance the large drink, nachos, jujubes and his own - smaller - popcorn. "Look at all the work that went into it, Mulder." 

Mulder gave Krycek a surprised glance at his comment. He always tried to find ways to separate Krycek from him, find all the differences between them and line them up neatly. Krycek wasn't really the complete opposite he wanted to think he was. His appreciation of what the theater used to be, almost an echo of his thoughts, made Mulder wonder for a moment what else they might have in common, then he dismissed it completely, and walked up the stairs towards the roped off balcony. 

What an asshole, Krycek thought as he watched Mulder shrug off his comments once again. I'm on my own time now and doing him a fucking favor and he still acts like he's God Almighty. He decided to choose the least ratty chair to sit in and pulled up another one to hold his food. Deciding it was over-warm way up here, he took off his jacket and tossed it over yet another chair. Krycek took full advantage of their otherwise empty sanctuary and found another chair to put his feet on. "Now," he said with a smirk at Mulder, "this is what I call watching a movie in style." 

Mulder sneered at Krycek's little nesting display. "Make yourself at home, by all means." Mulder chose a seat next to the railing, looked down and scrutinized every patron below, all five of them. Then he examined the speakers, walls, and the red velvet curtain currently obscuring the screen from his view. The brass railing made a disturbing screeching noise when he put some weight on it, so he leaned back and into his dusty seat. 

"I will," Krycek answered and held his breath when Mulder pushed at the railing, almost toppling over. "This makes the definition of wide-screen TV mean nothing. What are we gonna watch anyway? Some new slice-and-dice, tits-and-ass teenage thing?" He baited Mulder openly now. He'd enough of the older man's condescending attitude, and anyway, he'd forgotten how Jujubees stuck in his teeth. 

Mulder turned to Krycek about to say something scathing regarding his language, but the sight of Krycek smiling at him with a green Jujubee stuck between his front teeth sent him into peals of laughter. At Krycek's confused expression he simply laughed harder. Finally, he managed to get himself under control, enough to say. "Not new, old, but, yes, you've pretty much got the rest pegged. Friday the 13th, to be exact." 

Surprised by Mulder's laughter, Krycek snapped his mouth shut and felt another damn candy lodged there. Fuck, he thought, that's all I need. He tried to move it with his tongue, but it was stuck. He shrugged and removed it with a napkin. "Friday the 13th? Crap, isn't that the one with the chainsaw maniac? I thought it was gonna be a classic or something to suit this place, you know, like The Blob or The Haunting of Hill House or something decent." 

Mulder snorted, "Something decent? Friday the 13th is a classic! It's the granddaddy of all slasher flicks. You are a cinematic snob, you know that? Something decent...." Mulder rolled his eyes. The lights dimming distracted Mulder's attention, which was followed by the regal parting of the shabby velvet curtain. A little flutter of excitement went through Mulder's guts, he didn't know if it was from the knee-jerk reaction of the curtain, or of the new information about the case he was sure would be revealed soon. 

Krycek watched Mulder become immediately entranced by the starting show. I bet he thinks Ed Wood is gonna sit down next to him and personally tell him the secret of life, he thought. On the other hand, Mulder's intense preoccupation with finding out things is what made him fascinating. Krycek felt a faint envy stir in his chest, to 'feel' so much, be so passionate, he longed for that kind of commitment himself. Fuck this, he thought and took a long sip of his Cherry Coke. The soda to syrup formula must have been off, because the soda tasted almost sickly sweet. He wanted to ask Mulder if his Coke tasted strange, but decided against it. Mulder would just probably say that he was the one with the lousy taste. 

The screechy violins during the opening credits were a bit much, Mulder thought. Yes, It's a horror movie. Yes, we get it. Calm down. As the scene opened on the first lamb to the slaughter, petting a dog and looking innocent, Mulder stuck his hand into his popcorn bucket, noticed with some distaste that they had really hosed it down with the imitation butter-like substance. As he chewed, he noticed an odd taste, not quite metallic, strange, though. He turned to Krycek to say something, and then thought the better of it. He didn't want any of Krycek's statistics about what was in movie theater butter right now. 

Krycek continued to watch Mulder watching the beginning of the movie. The grease on Mulder's hand from his popcorn was starting to run off his palm and onto his forearm. It glistened with a green shine in the changing lights from the screen. Krycek got the oddest feeling about Mulder's long fingered hand. He could swear he almost felt that hand touch his lips. He licked his lips, but all he tasted was the over-sweet soda. He dug into his nachos. The salsa almost made him gag. He was sure it was spoiled. He flung the paper container away from him and it landed, with a mushy spat, way back in the balcony. He didn't care if it made a mess or if Mulder didn't approve of litter. They deserved it for serving him rotten food and nasty soda. 

Mulder noticed the container being flung out of the corner of his eye, "Jeeze, Krycek, can't take you anywhere." 

"It tastes like shit," Krycek mumbled under his breath. 'Take me?'- I'll take you somewhere, Mr. High and Mighty. Take you right up to Smoky's office and let you explain the movie to him. Bet the two of you would get on like thieves, always telling me to do this and get that. Bastards, the both of you. 

Krycek took another long sip of his awful soda; it did nothing to slake his thirst. He was getting increasingly dry-mouthed no matter how much he drank and began to wonder if there was a water fountain nearby. He shifted in his seat and found, to his horror that he was erect, and once he noticed that, he began to feel very warm. 

He held the large soda cup in front of himself and hoped Mulder wouldn't notice him in the darkness. Why the fuck was he aroused? He hadn't a clue. 

Mulder found himself ducking slightly as the trees in the movie seemed to reach out of the screen, the innocent from the gas station was about to get hers. "That's what she gets for hitchhiking," he muttered to Krycek, who just grunted in response. As Mrs. Voorhees slit the girl's throat, spraying blood everywhere, Mulder looked down to grab another handful of popcorn. As it caught the light from the screen it turned a sinister color of crimson, the same color as the fine mist on the screen. Mulder yelped, jumped, and knocked the bucket out of his lap and over the side of the balcony. He heard curses coming from below, ignored them as he once again looked at the popcorn he still had in his hands. Which was simple, ordinary popcorn. Maybe a little too much butter, but other than that, just popcorn. It was then he noticed the incredulous look Krycek was giving him. 

"I admit to trashing the back of the balcony, Mulder. But I didn't attack anyone doing it." What the fuck was going on? Mulder looked like a deer caught in the headlights, staring at his handful of popcorn as if it were suddenly alive. He's dealt with way too many weird things, Krycek decided. We should have gone fishing at Fells Point or something. Maybe out to eat at the new diner in Georgetown, someplace simple and ordinary, not this monstrosity of an ancient theater way out in the boondocks. 

"It's nothing... just... nothing.... Ignore me... watch for suspicious things... or something." Mulder settled back in his seat, tossing the remaining popcorn behind him, not feeling hungry anymore. Krycek had pinned him with a stare that said, 'I've already seen the suspicious thing here, Mulder, and it's not the movie.' He noticed Krycek was clutching his soda quite protectively, nestling it in his crotch like he feared Mulder was going to take it away. "Easy, Krycek, " he said, nodding at his lap, "I don't want any of that." 

Like hell you don't! The thought popped suddenly in Krycek's brain and sent shivers down his spine, and he was rock hard again, behind the paper cup. He was appalled. Something was definitely wrong with this picture, and it wasn't the 'moving picture' either. This is NOT a date, Mulder is most certainly NOT a busty blonde, and I am absolutely NOT aroused by a goddamn guy, a guy who happens to be MULDER, most of all! What in the holy hell was going on? "No sharing," he practically hissed, "you said you wouldn't share your popcorn, so you can't have any of my drink, even if you wanted it." 

Krycek was doing an apt impression of a wet cat. "Gee, Krycek, I dunno, I sure am thirsty." He made to mock grab at the soda, and accidentally brushed his hand against Krycek closest thigh. That single touch caused a radiant heat to pulse through his groin. What the fuck? He noticed his hand still hanging in mid air between them, as if it too was lost on what to do next. Krycek's thigh was tense and very warm, the thought of what he would feel if he had just let his fingers grip the cup, his knuckles brush up against Krycek's fly... 

A shriek emanating from the screen made them both jump, as the latest victim just stood there, accepting the axe through her skull like a good little B Movie bimbo. However, the special effects were fairly impressive for the budget, impressive enough to cause Mulder to get a little of that nausea back from the popcorn incident. He leaned back in his seat, breathing heavily. 

What the fuck was that? Krycek thought to himself. Mulder almost grabbed me by the nuts. He wanted to feel disgusted, but found instead, he was rubbing the cup up against the aforementioned area. Shit, I hope the movie is over soon. I need to get out of here, and away from Mulder. 

Mulder was trying desperately to calm his breathing, and concentrate on the screen. The case, he thought, gotta keep my mind on the case. He tried to focus on the screen, but it seemed like the perspective kept shifting, gradually getting closer and closer to him. He could smell rain, which was odd, because he hadn't heard any noise from the roof. Then he noticed he was damp. He looked up, thinking there must be a hole in the roof, only to discover that the roof was missing entirely. The heavy downpour was now soaking his shirt and jeans thoroughly. And the diner was now about 20 feet away, directly in front of him. And it was very real. 

If Krycek thought Mulder had been acting strange before, he was really weird now. He was looking up at the ceiling and brushing at his shirt and pants as if they were wet. "What is the matter with you Mulder?" Krycek asked, and when Mulder did not respond, asked again louder. 

Mulder turned abruptly, suddenly noticing Krycek wasn't there, although he could hear him as if he was right next to him. "Krycek? Where are you?" He sloshed around in the muddy parking lot, trying to clear the rain from his eyes, then he saw him, he was like he was a phantom, appearing gradually, black and white fading into color. 

Krycek was not amused! Suddenly he was wet and couldn't see the screen through a haze of dim greenish rain and Mulder was calling to him in a panicked voice. What the fuck! There was Mulder - but - but he was - no! THEY were standing in a muddy parking lot in front of a diner. Something was very wrong, but it was suddenly so... real. 

"Wha... what?" Krycek shook himself. "What's happening?" 

Mulder gaped at this, "What's happening? We are IN THE MOVIE, Krycek! Isn't it obvious? This is what all those people were talking about! This is it! This is what we were looking for!" His face split into a huge grin as he surveyed the drenched lot. 

"In the movie? Gimme a break! We can't be in the movie, it isn't real, it's celluloid," Krycek took a deep breath to continue berating Mulder, then he paused and looked around. He and Mulder were indeed standing in a muddy parking lot, just like the one in the movie, and the diner was right here, too. He could smell the greasy cooking. Oh my God, he thought, I am in a fucking X-File and TRUST Mulder to be happy about it! 

Mulder ignored Krycek's ravings, instead he concentrated on the feel of the mud between his fingers, the cold metal of the cars, the scents that were too real to be imitation. Actually in a movie, he thought, smiling. Then his smile faded. Actually in a movie that happened to be Friday the 13th. Then he frowned. By his count, there were still three people alive at the camp. Could he stop the killer? Was it even possible to change anything here? He had to try. "Krycek, can you hot wire a car?" 

Krycek stopped short. Yeah, he could hot wire a car, but did he really want Mulder to know that about him? He thought it might be okay; even eager Jr. Agents took auto-shop in high school. "Yeah, Mulder, I can hot wire a car. Which one do you want me to do?" 

"Any of them, just pick one. We have to get to the camp, before anyone else is killed!" 

"Uh, Mulder," Krycek knew he was stuttering, "who is gonna get killed, why are we involved and how do you know this anyway?" He moved toward the VW Microbus and opened the unlocked door. Thirty seconds later the noisy engine turned over. 

Mulder slammed the door, and Krycek put the pedal to the floor, like he knew what to do with a hot car. Mulder's addled mind pondered that for a moment, and then disregarded it in favor of the problem at hand. "Don't you get it, Krycek? We are in the movie we were watching! Friday the 13th - we are IN THIS MOVIE! And the killer hasn't finished yet; we could save the kids still left at camp. But we have to hurry!" He looked up, hoping to see a sign or something to tell them where to go, and was stunned to see the cabins looming directly ahead. "Break, Krycek! Break!" He yelled. 

"Shit!" Krycek yelled and slammed on the brakes. The VW slipped and fishtailed for a few seconds. "Goddamn motherfucker!" Krycek continued to rant, "What the hell are we doing Mulder? Are you are out of your fucking mind?" 

Mulder leapt from the van, trying to get his bearings. The Archery range to his right, the lake itself was to his left. Christ, he thought, why didn't I pay more attention? It had been years since he had first seen the movie, and he couldn't remember who was next. "The head counselor, had to be the head counselor", he decided. Now if only he knew where her cabin was. 

He turned to find Krycek, soaked to the bone with his hands on his hips, still shooting him a dirty look. "Look, I know this is crazy, but we have to go along with it. Come on, let's search the cabins, and watch out for Mrs. Voorhees." 

"What are we gonna do when we get there? I mean isn't the villain unstoppable or something?" Krycek saw Mulder start off without him. "Stop, Mulder!" he yelled, but Mulder ignored him and raced toward the cabins. Damn, he thought, doesn't Mulder ever stop and think? 

Mulder, with his gun drawn, kicked the door open on the first cabin. He checked under every bunk bed and didn't find anything or anyone, he backed out, collided with Krycek's solid, warm frame. 'And I moved - and I saw him standing in the doorway,' a piece of an old Townsend song drifted across Mulder's memory at that moment. He didn't know why, must have been because Krycek was, well, standing in the doorway. Stress did strange things to his mind. And Krycek was still there, in the doorway, looking angry and confused. 

Mulder realized this might seem a bit odd to him, not having seen and experienced the myriad of strange X-Files that he had. He motioned for Krycek to enter the room, closed the door, and put his hand on Krycek shoulder, enjoying the warmth there, despite the damp shirt. "Look, Krycek, I know none of this makes any sense to you right now, but we're here, somehow, and we have to at least try to make a difference. I don't know what is going to happen either, but I'm willing to play. How about you?" 

Krycek felt the warmth of Mulder's hand and heard the entreaty in his voice. God, what's he doing to me? One second he's treating me like dirt, the next we're off on some insane chase and now he's, well, it sure feels like he's coming on to me. "Okay, okay," Krycek said, the stutter seeming to have taken up permanent residence in his voice, "I wasn't refusing. I just need to know what we are up against." Besides being 'up' against you, and that really doesn't make any sense at all, he thought. 

The slight hesitation in Krycek's voice, and the way he slowly blinked at him, as if to showcase his long eyelashes, made Mulder pause in his pursuit. Mulder wondered briefly what they would feel like if he brushed his lips against them. He tightened his grip on the other man's shoulder, intent on bringing Krycek close enough to do just that, when he suddenly realized what he was about to do and released him abruptly. What was that? Then he remembered - the movie! Yes, this has to be some sort of side effect - all the kids in these kinds of slasher flicks always did drugs or had sex, which gave the killer ample time to sneak up on them. He had an idea, if he could just get Krycek to go along with him. "I think I know how to draw the killer out, so no one else has to get hurt." 

Krycek was struck dumb. For a moment it seemed as if Mulder was gonna KISS him and that was really, really strange. It was stranger than anything else so far tonight, because, damn, for a moment he WANTED Mulder to kiss him. "Wha...what did you have in mind?" He finally asked. 

Mulder knew he had to approach this carefully, so as not to spook Krycek, so to speak. "Well, instead of the killer going after the rest of the counselors, what if we could get her to come to us instead? Whatever we had to do, it would be worth it, right? And then when we've got her, and everyone else gets a happy ending. But if you don't want to, I will understand, believe me, I will." Mulder held his breath, watched the rain slide down from Krycek's hair, and was suddenly filled with the desire to lick it off his chin... 

"I like happy endings," Krycek said, "especially if we are among those who don't get hurt. What do you want me to do?" 

Mulder took a deep breath, stepped back from Krycek, trying to give him enough space to think clearly, "Okay, here is my theory. Because we are in this particular movie, a 'slasher movie', if you will, two things seem to draw the killer out, one of them is drug use, and there doesn't seem to be any here, unless you are holding out on me, Krycek." Mulder gave him a small smile, to show he was joking, then continued on, "And the other thing seems to be, um, sex." He turned away, not sure he wanted see Krycek's face as he took this in, didn't know if he could stand it if he was turned down flat. The silence from behind him became unnerving. 

Drugs? Sex? Krycek thought about what Mulder was implying. He'd seen enough teenage 'slasher' movies to know, but that Mulder was suggesting it? Bizarre, he'd been warned Mulder was bizarre. Surprisingly, he was considering what Mulder was suggesting. "Ah, Mulder," Krycek queried, "Just how far - um - I mean what exactly - er- how much, what do we need to do - precisely?" 

Mulder couldn't believe his ears, Krycek had actually said yes! At least it sounded like yes. He was going to take it as a yes, at any rate. He turned back around, and moved closer. "Well, I think any sort of touching of a sexual nature would work, we don't have to go 'all the way' or anything, just, you know, touching, maybe kissing, unless you don't want to do that." Internally Mulder was busy simultaneously undressing Krycek and kicking himself for phrasing it so badly. Way to seduce a guy, yeah, 'seduce a GUY', he thought, as strange as that sounds. 

"You want us to KISS?" Krycek blurted out, "You mean like... kissing?" Dweeb, I am a dweeb, he thought. 

Krycek looked at Mulder, who was twisting his soaked T-shirt in trembling fingers in his anxiety. Did he want to kiss a guy? He hadn't ever thought so, but this was kissing Mulder and suddenly that sounded like the best offer he'd ever had. He stepped closer to Mulder, "Yeah, yeah, I think kissing would be okay. I mean lips are just lips, right?" Mulder nodded, quickly reached out, and there it was. Mouth on mouth and then it was lips on lips and so much more. It escalated quickly, each trying to take the lead now that they were 'there'. Then tongues got into play, aggressive tongues, and Krycek thought it was great. Finally, he didn't have to worry about his identity for a while because damn if he was gonna be anyone other than himself right now. 

They held on tight to each other, rubbing crotches and kissing and hands were exploring shoulders and chests and when Mulder cupped his erection, he knew it was gonna be over just as fast and crazy as it had started. Krycek pulled back and bit Mulder's neck and ground his hip into Mulder's erection. Mulder groaned and they fused mouths again, humping each other until they blew. 

Mulder gasped for air and clung to Krycek. God, that was quick, he thought. One second he was contemplating something a simple as a kiss, and the very next second he had Krycek up against the wall, rubbing up against him like he hadn't seen any action in years. Well, that part was true, actually. He was stunned that he could get so excited, so quick, because of a guy. And it was good. Very good. Good, as in he'd do it again if Krycek asked. The odd situation they were in, and the danger that was probably on the way was forgotten for a moment, and he leaned in and took Krycek's mouth again, softer this time, one last moment before they returned to the insanity. 

Krycek was still gasping when Mulder kissed him. There was no mistaking 'these' kisses as part of anything 'pretend'. These kisses were the real thing, post-orgasmic pleasure kisses. He wrapped his arms around Mulder and kissed him back, voluptuously, as if they had all the time in the world to spend making love on a rainy afternoon. He felt a sort of otherworldly kind of wonder about being here in this situation, with Mulder. It was if it had been preordained or something. Hell, maybe it was, he wasn't about to argue with that. The kisses started to roam: face, chin, throat. His dick started to twitch again. Damn if Mulder wasn't the best kisser he'd ever come across, let alone 'come' with. 

Mulder's head buzzed pleasantly from Krycek's efforts, he felt himself sag again, trying to get closer... What the hell was that? He straightened, and lost the close, warm comfort of his partner's body. Krycek's eyes widened, giving him a wounded stare. "No, it's not that," he whispered, "listen!" They both stood perfectly still, ears straining against the darkness for what Mulder thought he'd heard. 

"Kill them, mommy! KILL THEM!" It was very close, right outside the door. It wasn't quite a child's voice, almost like someone older, more psychotic, trying to mimic the pitch. The reply chilled Mulder to the bone. 

"I won't, Jason, I won't." Mrs. Voorhees had finally decided to make her appearance. 

Krycek, still leaning against the wall, drew his weapon, and waited for the door to open. Mulder quietly backed away a few paces, until he was right in front of the doorway, and he aimed at the closed door, dead center. We got her, was his last thought before Krycek suddenly jolted, dropped his gun, and looked down at the machete that had gone through the wall and right into the middle of his chest. "NO!" Mulder screamed. 

Mulder wanted to run to Krycek, try to comfort him, something... but Krycek was already gone, in horror movie fashion, no screaming, and no struggling, just... dead. "YOU FUCKING BITCH! YOU'RE DEAD!" Mulder fired through the flimsy cabin door until the gun clicked, empty. He threw down his gun, and stooped to pick up Krycek's discarded weapon. He took one more long, sad look at Krycek, and then went out into the storm. 

It was still pouring out, making her footprints impossible to find, though he knew she wouldn't have gone far. After all, one of the 'fornicators' was still alive. "Come on out, Mrs. Voorhees, I know you're here." Nothing. He turned, going back towards the lake. She's gotta be here, somewhere. Come on out, you twisted bitch, "You know, I always thought Jason got what he deserved," he continued loudly, "going off swimming, all by himself like that, really very careless. You should have taught him better, Mrs. Voooorrrr..." 

The arrow skewered his chest and collapsed both lungs. He fell backwards into the muck, gasping like a fish out of water. Mrs. Voorhees knelt beside him, brushing the hair back from his forehead. 

"You really shouldn't speak ill of my Jason, not very smart at all. And besides, you don't belong here." The words echoed, as everything went very dark. 

Krycek woke with a scream on his lips only to find himself sprawled in the ratty red chair in the balcony of the Dreamland Theater. He jumped to his feet, wildly looked around for Mulder, and found him...shit! Saw him dying in bloody Technicolor on the screen. For a brief moment Krycek could feel the misty rain on his face and then the balcony phased out and in again, and Mulder was there! He too was holding his chest and looking around wildly. Krycek hurried over and dropped to his knees in front of the panicked and breathless man. "We're safe, Mulder. We're safe." Mulder met his eyes and Krycek grabbed onto him and buried his head in Mulder's lap. "We're alive." 

Mulder panted heavily. It was so good to feel his lungs expand with every breath, to feel Krycek's body heat against his lap. The chill of being soaked for so long dissipated, and, when he had calmed his breathing, he took Krycek's chin, lifting his head so they were eye to eye. "Christ, thought I'd lost you for a minute there." He smiled and stroked his cheek, "Hell of a carnival ride, huh?" 

"Shit Mulder! What the hell happened?" Krycek exclaimed. He was momentarily embarrassed to find he was on his knees in front of Mulder. He realized he was no longer damp, yet he still felt wet. In one particular spot. Son-of-a-bitch! He and Mulder had made out and had fucking come in their pants. His world took another spin on its axis, but Mulder was stroking his hair and the side of his face so he gave in and decided to think about all of it later. Much later. Much. 

Mulder noticed Krycek looking at his crotch, then at his own, and suddenly the cheek under his fingers seemed very warm. Shocked, he removed his hand, remembered everything else about their evening together in the big screen. That he had pinned Krycek against the wall and humped him for all he was worth. He blushed then, wondering if Krycek would be okay with this. Wondering if Krycek would let him do it again... 

"We have to get out of here, Mulder," Krycek said, but he couldn't help it and pressed his forehead against Mulder's one more time as he reluctantly began to get to his feet. "If you're going to get any proof, we should find the other patrons as soon as possible" He extended a hand to Mulder. His figure merely filled the space in front of Krycek, but he seemed to want to hold on. Where did that come from? Some song maybe... Krycek shook his head and tried to get his thoughts back on track, back on the case and away from sex and Mulder in the same thought. It was a losing battle, but he tried. 

Mulder took the offered hand, and stood unsteadily. "I'll go find the manager. You go downstairs and try to keep people from leaving." They both hurried back down the stairs, the credits were beginning to roll, and even though a part of Mulder wanted to stay and see if their names appeared, time was of the essence. 

Krycek nodded and turned into the theater section while Mulder headed toward the manager's office at the front of the lobby. He pulled out his badge and attempted to stop and question the few others who had stayed to see the end of the movie. None of them would stay and talk to him. They all looked either scared, stoned or both. He gave up and went to find Mulder. 

The lobby was empty and he found Mulder standing in the empty manager's office. The lights in the lobby dimmed and he could hear the automatic sounds of the film system being rewound and shut off in the booth. "Do you think the manager is still here?" 

"Let's find out," Mulder said, gesturing toward a doorway behind the snack counter. The door was closed, but he could see light filtering under the door, and he could hear someone talking softly as he got closer. He made sure Krycek was behind him, and not touching any part of the wall, just in case, and opened the door. 

They both took out their guns. Krycek was glad, bad guys and guns were finally something, for the first time tonight, he understood. He watched Mulder slowly and silently turn the doorknob. It creaked when it started to open, and they both jumped. The man, at least Krycek thought it was a man, was so involved in what he was doing that he had either not heard the door or simply disregarded it. He was somewhat obscured by a flowing dark cape and the thick greenish-gray smoke coming from a tray of laboratory vials, doing SOMETHING to the supply of snack food stacked in open cartons on the shelves. 

The Castle Dracula refugee suddenly spun, his cape doing an impressive little flair, and knocked Mulder's gun from his hand with his cane. Of course this weirdo had a cane, Krycek thought as he shoved the man up against the shelves. The beakers of steaming green goo toppled over, hit the floor and shattered. The man, Vincent Price's younger, uglier, brother, Krycek decided, started to scream and curse. Krycek's last thought as Mulder put the man in cuffs and began to read him his rights was, at least he wasn't cursing in Hungarian, that would really be the final straw! 

The man's bird-like claws were still trying to capture Mulder's hands even after he managed to cuff his arms behind his back. "I'm innocent, I tell you! INNOCENT! I did nothing wrong! THEY are the ones! THEY tried to stop my brilliance! I had to continue the testing! THEY made me leave - THEY took away my RATS! I must have the RATS to do the TESTING!" Mulder shoved the guy at Krycek, who held him firmly, as he took a closer look at what the creep was up to. They had interrupted him just as he was tainting the imitation butter-like substance. So it was all a hallucination, he found himself a little sad at that thought. It had really seemed like he was actually in the movie. But that scene with Krycek, had that been a hallucination as well? His underwear still felt decidedly damp, and not from the rain either. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed for the local police. 

Krycek held the man and was proud he restrained himself from giving in to the urge to kidney punch the guy a few times. Mulder closed his cell phone and began to question the suspect. The man made no sense, of course. It was obvious that he had watched one too many horror flick marathons. 

Krycek saw the hangdog look on Mulder's face at the lack of cogent evidence. He found he was sorry the evening hadn't realized more profound results. He met Mulder's eyes, over 'Vincent Jr.'s' shoulder and Mulder shrugged, a half smile appearing on his face. 

They stood there staring at each other until Krycek could feel the temperature in the room begin to rise. He flushed and saw Mulder's small smile turn into a somewhat evil and lascivious grin. What the fuck, Krycek thought, and smiled back, showing his own teeth in return. 

The local police showed up and took over. Thankfully they were happy enough with an oral report and would wait for a written one tomorrow. They reassured Mulder the guy wasn't going anywhere, except back to the asylum from which he had escaped. 

* * *

Mulder closed his cell phone, and sighed heavily as he lay back on the faded bedspread. Skinner had been less than pleased about him going out on a case, not to mention taking Krycek with him, that had not been assigned to him, but he was glad to hear that one Vincent Addams was back in custody, and would not be trying to slip anyone a psychedelic mickey anytime soon. Skinner grudgingly offered a "Nice work, agent. Tell Agent Krycek, too," and told them to stay in town for the evening, so they could wrap it up tomorrow. This was fine with Mulder, he was drained from being 'killed' and other... things, which he didn't really want to think about right now, but continued to constantly, whether he wanted to or not. Krycek had leapt at the idea of getting two rooms, which was fine with him also. Really. It meant it was just the drugs, he thought, didn't it? Dammit, enough with this, I need a shower, he said to himself. As he rose, he could hear the squeaky pipes announcing that he wasn't the only one who thought a shower was a great idea. 

Krycek got in the shower and turned the temperature as hot as he could stand it. He wondered what was gonna happen next, if anything. The connecting door was unlocked, and even if it wasn't, he certainly knew how to take care of that little problem. He absently stroked his 'other' little problem, which was rapidly becoming bigger. Really, he thought, what happens next? 

He reached for the soap, so immersed in his thoughts that he didn't think why it was already in the soap dish unwrapped. He began to lather up his left armpit when the strong and unusual 'scent' of the soap reached his nose. "Wha..." He tried to call out as the shower walls began to dissolve around him. 

Mulder thought he could hear groaning through the thin bathroom walls. Bastard, he thought. Even in another room Krycek was having a crazy effect on his libido. He stepped in the shower, tried to adjust the spray to something past lukewarm, and picked up the soap. It was pink, with an odd green gooey swirl in the middle. He gave it a good whiff before beginning to lather; the scent seemed to cloud his brain instantly, causing him to swoon. He grabbed the curtain to try to break his fall, ripping it off the rod, and ended up half in and half out of the shower. "Now what?" he muttered as he lost consciousness. 

**THE END....OR IS IT???**

* * *

Pete Townsend -- And I Moved (off Empty Glass) 

And I moved  
As I saw him looking in through my window His eyes were silent lies  
And I moved  
And I saw him standing in the doorway  
His figure merely filled the space  
And I moved  
But I moved toward him 

And I moved  
And his hands felt like ice exciting  
As he laid me back just like an empty dress And I moved  
But a minute after he was weeping  
His tears his only truth  
And I moved  
But I moved toward him   
  

If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to Kashmir Flutesong


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